


Literally Speaking

by Lady_Firiel



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Firiel/pseuds/Lady_Firiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Atobe is trying to get laid through maybe-not-so-subtle hints and Tezuka is just too serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Literally Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone~! This is the first story I write in a long while -a very long one, indeed- and the very first one I write in English (which is not my native language, but I tried my best)  
> It's also my first attempt at writing something in this fandom, so have some mercy on my poor -wicked- soul.  
> Just joking. Hope you enjoy this little thing~

**Literally Speaking**

 

Atobe detached himself from the wall on which he was leaning and smirked naughtily at the guy coming his way.  
Wrapped  in a long beige coat, Tezuka Kunimitsu walked slowly towards his apartment building; when he was close enough he acknowledged the other’s presence with a brief nod and a polite call of his family name.

«You’re late Tezuka» Atobe complained –probably as his own form of greeting.

«The bus got struck in the traffic jam, I couldn’t really help being late» Tezuka answered, pushing open the gate of the building.

«Mpf, if only you’d let me drive you home…»

«We’re not having this conversation again, Atobe. I already told you I don’t need a personal driver»

Atobe pouted, following his friend up the stairs.

Actually, they were a little bit more than _just friends_ –as if being considered one of Tezuka’s friends wasn’t already kind of a big deal, given how different their personalities were in the first place.

It probably began with that match back then, during their last year of middle school. Atobe had always thought of Tezuka as an equal and a rival, someone to admire while wishing to surpass. When admiration became something more, though, he couldn’t tell and, to be honest, right now he didn’t really care. He was just glad that Tezuka felt the same.

They’d been going out for almost nine months, having started right after high school, and they were doing just fine.

Both of them were attending Tokyo University and playing for the school tennis team (and, really, who would have thought they’d play for the same team, one day-), but none of them was thinking of going pro: Atobe had a financial empire to inherit (and, somehow, he just couldn’t wait for the day he’d be _the Emperor_ rather than _the King_ ) while Tezuka simply reached the conclusion that tennis wouldn’t last forever; and once you reach retirement age you may have money, but what else? No family because of frequent travelling abroad? Friends you barely see because of overly busy schedules? If loneliness was to come with fame then he wanted nothing to do with it. After all, tennis should be played mostly for the fun of it.

They reached the third floor («Why don’t we use the lift sometimes?» «Climbing stairs is good training» «You’re too serious, Tezuka») and stopped in front of a door.

Atobe eyed his companion from head to toe and noticed a bulge in one of his pockets. Now, not that it could have been mistaken for anything, let’s say, _unsightly_ , but it has been a while since they’ve been intimate with each other and he thought that a whole weekend spent together _alone_ would offer quite a few chances of getting closer.

He was a man of manners, though, and why stating things in a very straight-forward way when he could just hint them with highly selected innuendos?

«Naa, Tezuka» he said, grinning «Is that a tennis ball in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?»

Tezuka turned to look at him and blinked in confusion behind his glasses.

«Actually» he answered, slipping his left hand in the pocket and taking out a bunch of keys «Those are just my keys»

 _“He didn’t get it, mm?”_ Atobe thought to himself, watching the other fiddle with the keys for a moment before he found the right one and slid it inside the lock.

«You know, I’d fit inside you as perfectly as a key inside its lock» he tried again with a different line, a _better_ one, one Tezuka was bound to understand-

«You’re talking nonsense again» came the answer, and though the guy had his back to him he could clearly picture his eyebrows rising skeptically as he managed to open the apartment door.

 _“No good, mm? I’ll find something else then”_ Atobe smirked, following Tezuka inside . If that was a challenge who was him to back off? He’d go for it and win –as it was supposed to be.

They slipped off their shoes and removed their coats, which Tezuka then proceeded to hang as Atobe mumbled a «Sorry for the intrusion» out of habit.

They ventured into the bedroom silently until the host stopped, turned and asked his guest: «Why are you following me?»

Atobe shrugged his shoulders, something he only did when he was alone with the other guy, as a sign of how comfortable he was in his presence –so much that he could do something as supposedly unclassy as that while feeling completely at ease.

«What should I do alone in the living room?»

Tezuka must have thought he had a point because he merely hummed in response before entering the room.

He went to his closet to get some clean clothes, then he turned to the bed where his friend was sitting and asked him if he wanted some clean clothes as well.

«I’m fine, thank you» he said.

The ex Seigaku captain nodded briefly and started to undress himself, seemingly oblivious to the lustful stare of his companion-

«You know Tezuka» came the husky voice «I wish I was one of your legs, so I could get in your pants»

Tezuka stopped unbuttoning his jeans and stared at Atobe’s deep blue eyes.

«My pants have nothing special» he stated «I don’t see the point of a wish like that, really». He took his clean clothes and moved to the bathroom «I’ll go take a shower, it won’t take long»

Atobe raised both his eyebrows: that was asking for it.

«Yeah, you’d better get yourself cleaned, ‘cause things are ‘bout to get dirty…» he said, voice dropping a few octaves.

Tezuka clearly wasn’t impressed.

«Atobe» he started, glaring at his guest «I would really appreciate if you could refrain from making a mess out of my apartment for the time you’ll be here» he concluded before definitely leaving the room.

The blond man let himself fall on the mattress with a frustrated sigh. That was being harder than one of their tennis matches.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking.

He was a charming man of good manners, he was rich, an awesome tennis player and _damn,_ _he was a friggin’ good catch, what was Tezuka’s problem._

He thought they agreed on a both romantic and physical relationship, so why couldn’t he take a single hint? Could it be that he didn’t like him anymore?

«That’s impossible» he said out loud as a conclusion of his inner speech.

«What’s impossible?» came the sudden question, startling him; he was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that the water had stopped running and that Tezuka was now back in the bedroom cleaned and fully clothed.

«Nothing» Atobe said, straightening himself «I was just thinking»

Tezuka didn’t inquire and went to retrieve his homework from the schoolbag. That gave the blond man a new idea.

«You know, if you were my homework I'd slam you on the desk and do you all night» he said.

The dark haired man looked at him with a disapproving glare.

«You should be more respectful towards homework. They’re meant for our own improvement and you really shouldn’t show such violence towards them. Besides, working overnight and messing up your biorhythm is no good for your health» he stated.

Atobe fell back on the bed groaning in frustration. Trust Tezuka to be so concerned about homework well being.

«You’ve been saying weird things ever since we met, are you feeling well?» asked the host, a bit worried about his companion’s unusual behavior.

He sighed without moving from his lying position

«Yeah, I’m perfectly fine, thank  you»

Tezuka didn’t seem convinced by the answer, but let it slide. If he was acting like that he must have had his own good reasons.

Since his guest wasn’t showing any intentions of moving from the bed he decided to take a look at his homework, so he sat at his desk and started reading the various papers carefully.

Atobe turned his head and stared at his back, so straight against the chair backrest. Even his shoulder looked a bit stiff as he assumed the proper position to attend deskwork.

 _“Does he ever relax? This guy is really too serious”_ he thought.

His shoulders, though. And his back, too. _They looked damn good._

Atobe sighed longingly; how would he love to slide his hands over those firm shoulders, caressing his skin, then move them up and down his back while sitting on his lap, facing him and looking in his brown eyes and _oh god that was getting hot._

The mental image gave him a new idea, though.

«Naa, Tezuka» he said, still lying on the mattress facing the desk.

«Are you a horse? Because I really feel like riding you»

Tezuka put the papers on the table and turned to look at him.

«Did you hit your head Atobe? Or maybe you need to have your eyesight checked, because I don’t think there’s any way I could possibly look like a horse. Unless you own a horse with glasses, that is» he said.

The blond raised one of his eyebrows: was that supposed to be a joke?

«Are you kidding me, Tezuka?»

«I was just stating a fact» he answered, going back to work.

Atobe went back looking at the ceiling, trying to think of a new good line.

After a while passed with no good ideas coming to his mind he turned to Tezuka again and watched him still sitting stiffly on his chair. He stared at his hair, dark brown and so apparently messy, it was quite cute –not that he would ever say it out loud to the other guy- and the way it almost tickled the base of  his neck was charming. _His neck_ was charming, sexy, so damn exciting and _damn he was getting hot again._ It was all the man’s fault, he was too hot for his own good.

His eyes widened: that was a good one.

«Say, Tezuka» he said, assuming a sitting position «do you have a fever or are you usually that hot?»

The guy didn’t even move.

«I can assure you my body temperature is just fine, but I appreciate your concern» he answered before his eyes shifted to the clock on the corner of the desk.

«Oh, is it already this late?» he said. It was almost half past seven. He got up and looked at his guest.

«What would you like for dinner? Don’t expect anything too sophisticated, though»

Atobe grinned.

«Can I have you for dinner? 'Cause you're one fine piece of meat»

Tezuka pushed up his glasses, unfazed.

«That would be cannibalism, Atobe. But if you want meat I can make you something like a steak» he replied.

The blond sighed in defeat.

«Never mind it, Tezuka, just make whatever you want. I’ll eat it anyway as long as it tastes good»

Tezuka nodded and went to the kitchen to check the ingredients he had in the fridge.

«Is curry alright with you?» he asked as his guest entered the room. «I don’t have much left in the fridge, we’ll have to go shopping tomorrow if we want to eat something good»

«Curry’s fine» Atobe said, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

«Is there anything I can help you with? I feel in the mood to use my glorious ability for commoners tasks» he added, smirking.

«I feel honored. Can you set the rice cooker, then?»

The blond furrowed his eyebrows.

«Ohi, Tezuka» he said «Aren’t you underestimating my abilities? Ahn?» and irritation brought back old speech habits*.

«Would you rather cut the vegetables then?» Tezuka asked.

He considered the idea for a while, then decided that it was too much of a risk for his own fingers.

«I’ll set the rice cooker then»

The dark haired man nodded and started taking out the ingredients for chicken curry while Atobe tried to figure out just how the rice cooker worked.

It couldn’t be that hard, could it? Commoners did that all the time, there was no way someone like him wasn’t able to-

«You need to put water in the pot, add the rice and close it, then set the timer and turn it on» the host instructed him.

«I knew it» he mumbled in response as he did as told.

When he was done setting the rice cooker he looked curiously at what Tezuka was doing, silently admiring his cutting skills (they weren’t really anything special, it was just that he had never witnessed them before).

When he started cutting onions and a few tears escaped his eyes, Atobe worried.

«Ohi, Tezuka» he said «Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?»

«I’m fine Atobe» he replied «It’s a normal occurrence to cry while cutting onions»

«Is it?» he wondered, surprised.

He could swear he saw, and heard, the other stifle a laugh.

«Are you laughing at me?» he asked, pissed.

«I would never»

He decided to let it slide and kept on silently watching the other preparing dinner, only occasionally moving when asked to do something («Can you set the table, please?» «Of course I can. … Where are the plates, though?» «They’re in that cupboard over ther-… Do those look like plates to you?»).

When everything was ready they sat and eat quietly, making small talk. After they finished Atobe thanked his host for the food.

«How was it?» Tezuka asked, standing up to collect the plates to put in the sink.

«Dinner was delicious» he said.

«You know what else would be just as delicious? You, flushed and panting» he added then, seductively.

The dark haired guy left the plates in the sink and turned to his guest.

«Like after training? I believe there’s nothing delicious in that, after training I’m always all sweaty, sticky and I probably do smell awfully. What’s so good with that?» he inquired, doubtfully.

That was it, he’s had enough.

He got up and slammed his palms on the table.

«Dammit Kunimitsu!» he said, and he was so frustrated that he unconsciously switched to first names «I’ve been trying to get it through you all evening but you still don’t get it! You don’t get a single hint! Why are you always so serious? Damn, I’m so frustrated right now. _Fuck you_ , Tezuka» he concluded before sitting back on his chair.

From his position at the other side of the table Tezuka blushed a little.

«Oh» he said, turning slightly sideways to hide his flushing cheeks.

«If _that_ was what you wanted you should have just said it from the beginning»

«What?»

The blush darkened.

«Y-you said» he stammered « _“fuck you”_. I though you meant that literally…»

Atobe stared at him in disbelief.

«You take everything I say literally?»

«How else should I take it?»

He smirked. _“This guy is really too serious”_.

«Very well then» he said, standing up again «Since you are the one who said it let’s do just that: let’s _fuck you, Tezuka Kunimitsu_ ».

 

**Author's Note:**

> *though all the pick-up lines have been thought to work in English I still assumed they talked in Japanese. Since the story is settled when they're around twenty I thought that Atobe would have, by then, overcome his habit of using _Ore-Sama_ , choosing to at least drop the honorific. I thought that could have been a good moment for him to drop a _Ore-Sama_ due to feeling of being underestimated by Tezuka.  
>  Pay me no mind, I have a wicked soul.
> 
> Alright everyone, this is really the end, hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit~.  
> Not being a native-English speaker I could use some advice on grammar, lexicon or whatever. Also, I'm open to suggestions on ways to improve characters portraying.  
> To quote Echizen, _"I still have lots more to work on"_.  
>  Well, thank you for your time, dear, see you someday~!


End file.
